


Personal Paper Clip

by Bawgdan



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bawgdan/pseuds/Bawgdan
Summary: Riza Hawkeye is efficient and hardworking. Above all things she is a professional, but she is beginning to wonder if her efforts in exceptionalism have been a detriment to her femininity?“Women want to be loved like roses. They spend hours perfecting their eyebrows and toes and inventing irresistible curls that fall by accident down the back of their necks from otherwise austere hair-dos. They want their lover to remember the way they held a glass. They want to haunt.” ~Eve Babitz
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 41
Kudos: 114





	1. Dive

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As water cooler gossip tells it—Riza Hawkeye doesn't know how to have fun. Her reputation fluctuates, swinging on a pendulum from sexless angel to stiff sexless hard ass. It doesn't bother her because she doesn't have the time to care. She takes her job seriously. Men are distracting. If they have enough time to discuss what she does with her panties while she's off the clock, she can’t imagine the wasted effort if she allows herself to be courted by one.

She slips into Roy's office to put away one of the many binders they use for audits. The phone rings, stops, then rings again. Riza stares at it, not a nosy person herself, but it could be important.

At the start of the next ring, Riza picks up the phone, cradling it between her cheek and her shoulder.

"Colonel Mustang's office, Lieutenant Hawkeye speaking..." Then static silence for a moment.

"Is Roy available?" A woman blows a sigh into Riza's ear, definitely bothered by the sound of another woman's voice.

"Unfortunately he isn't in his office at the moment. I can take a message." Riza tries not to grumble. Typically, Roy is good about separating his personal life from work.

Riza scribbles the woman's name, Vlada, down on a blue sticky note and fixes it on a lamp shade. Perhaps she should've shared some of her wisdom with Vlada, but it is possible that she'd also been a professional woman, sick of being called sexless, and took a leap of faith on a man.

The door handle clicks and spins, Roy steps inside of his office with a steaming cup of coffee.

"I finished the audits." Riza's voice surprises him. It shouldn't. She's always around.

"Of course you did. You're a dependable person." Roy closes the door behind him.

"Vlada says to call her back." Riza always looks him directly in the eyes. It makes everyone else uncomfortable. Roy is the exception.

"Who?" He squints.

Riza tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes also, smirking sideways.

"V-L-A-D-A. Vlada." Riza points to the blue sticky note.

Roy sits in his chair, instinctively, Riza puts five feet of distance between them. He snatches the sticky note off the lamp shade. Holds it up to his nose, a frown forming dimples in his cheeks.

"I guess. Ok." He groans.

"She wouldn't expect a call if you hadn't left the impression that you would." Riza suggests.

"I thought I made it clear." Roy takes a sip of his coffee, crumpling the piece of paper in his fist. Witnessing the act makes her feel like a complicit criminal.

"Colonel Mustang, seriously, with all due respect, what is your definition of clear?" Riza cringes.

"I told her I wasn't searching for anything serious." Roy replies inanely.

"I beg to differ. If you weren't _searching_ for something, you wouldn't be a serial dater. You're absolutely searching." Riza knows, not necessarily from experience, but from conversations with her female peers, that when a man says he isn't looking for anything seriously, it only means that he doesn't want anything serious with _**you**_ , specifically.

Roy presses his tongue into his cheek, like she'd revealed something hidden. He contemplates it for some time. Riza keeps her expression blank. He sits back in his leather chair, the wheels screech.

"Riza, when was the last time you've even been on a date. Are you really trying to give me advice?" Roy laughs airily.

"I'm not giving you advice. I'm making an observation." Her ears turn red but she manages her composure.

"No seriously. Have you ever been on date?"

"That's an inappropriate question." Riza's nostrils flare.

"And yours wasn't?" Roy sits his coffee on his desk, folding his fingers together and leaning forward.

After a terribly long silence, Riza squares her shoulders and turns for the door.

"If you don't want anyone inquiring about your sex life, Mustang, don't have your one-night stands calling your place of work." And she leaves on that note. It takes the strength of her soul not to slam the door.

She might not be much of anything else, but she is most definitely professional.

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Riza comes home to Hayate's unconditional love. His happiness makes up for the awful things going on in the world outside of her apartment. Hayate doesn't judge her when she uses the toilet, when she changes out of her uniform and slips into sweats. His pink tongue hangs out of his mouth and he breathes excitedly.

"I've missed you too." Riza says as she struggles to pull her gray sweatshirt over her head. He runs around in a circle. This means he has to pee.

Riza could live the rest of her life without the complication of dating. Hayate loves her and that's enough to sustain her happiness. When she swipes his leash from the kitchen counter, he spins in another circle.

Every night, if she isn't pulling a long shift, Riza takes him out for a walk. It is the only time she doesn't have to think about the burdens of her career. Hayate regards everything with wonder. Stuffing his face in the bushes of the same tiny patch of a tree lawn, sniffing around like he hasn't peed on them, already, many times before.

Roy had hurt her ego. Not her feelings. Riza divides herself this way in order to compartmentalize all traumas in her life. Hayate guides her down the dark street. Her reprieve from work isn't working this evening.

A shallow sadness, her feelings, creeps up. Louder than anything else going on in her head.

Is it really her attitude that makes her sexless? Is she sexless because her peers don't recognize her femininity? It hasn't mattered before but it does now.

"Who cares if anyone finds me attractive, right?" She looks down at Hayate. He barks.

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Riza falls back into her routine, abandoning shallowness at her front door. She pours herself a glass of wine. Hayate curls up on the loveseat, his tail wagging but his eyes are closed. She sits beside him and scratches the back of his ear.

This is the rest of her life. This is fine. Her phone rings.

Riza hopes to hell it isn't the world going up into flames. She is just starting to get comfortable enough for sleep.

"Hello." With her nose in the wine glass, she slurs as she gulps.

"Riza. It's Roy."

"I know the sound of your voice, Colonel." She retorts sharply.

"I wanted to apologize about what I said to you earlier. I'm sorry for not exercising proper leadership..." Roy says a few more words but they are clipped by Riza's torrent of laughter.

"Roy, I'm not on the clock." Riza clicks the glass against her teeth.

"Regardless, I needed to emphasize my point. I'm still at the office by the way."

"I completely forgot about it. Apology accepted." Riza doesn't lie too often.

"Good."

"You really think I would've gotten this far in my career if I were a sensitive baby?" Riza swipes at a sweaty strand of her hair, almost spilling the wine on her carpet.

"True." Roy sounds like he is smiling.

"Mhmm." Riza clears her throat.

"I'll get you breakfast in the morning, ok?"

"I deserve it. Thank you. Treat me better than the ladies who call your office." Riza wonders if that were too mean.

"No problem, Lieutenant. See you in the morning." Roy always hangs up without saying bye.

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	2. Your Moment In Time

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_There isn't enough sleep in the world_ was the first thought Riza had when she got out of bed. She washed her hair, pinned it up while it was still wet, brushed her teeth...mindlessly. Yesterday forgotten by what could happen in an entirely new, different day. 

The after smell of rain woke her up when she shrugged into her coat on the street. Wet concrete and stone, spiraling in the wind with the coconut smell of her shampoo. A light mist collected on her eyelashes. 

For the entirety of her commute, the thought of breakfast with Roy hadn't manifested itself as something worth anticipating. 

"It's ok. You're not a morning person." Roy hands her a cup of coffee. Somehow, his confident voice is what causes her to be alert. Not the smell of breakfast. Riza wipes the corner of her eye, rubs out the sleep. 

"I forgot all about it," she replies dumbly. 

"I didn't." Roy urges her to help herself to the boxes of carry-out.

"I mean, I didn't think you were being serious." Riza sips her surprisingly good coffee. She and Roy spend an immeasurable amount of time together but she hasn't committed herself to knowing his palate. Roy Mustang's _good_ taste is by no means a secret to anybody, but defining what is _good_ to Roy is irrelevant gossip. 

Roy jokingly tells everyone that she is in a frigid clinical state of practicality. 

_Roy has amazing taste in women_ , so they say. _Roy wears nice clothes_ , Riza doesn't care to know the labels. She is certain that Roy has good judgment when it comes to people (of course he picks good dates). Roy is serious about his job, not a surprise that he cares about his appearance. If her practicality is clinical, then so is his proneness to peacocking.

"When do I ever bluff?" Roy sits back at his desk and finishes his sausage and biscuit.

Riza mockingly tilts her head to the side and purses her lips. 

"What?" He sputters crumbs.

She sits her cup on his desk to take off her coat and then her restrictive uniform jacket. Roy watches her slowly peel off her gloves. 

"You smell good, Lieutenant." He says it like she doesn't always smell good. Riza pushes back a wet strand of hair from her face. 

"I showered. Just for you." Riza's lips twitch into a short lived smile before she shoves a strip of bacon into her mouth.

"How intimate and sentimental of you." Roy smiles. He wishes Riza were less comfortable around him. She chews through her food like a cow. He can never tell when she is deliberately careless or unaware of herself. However, their relationship wouldn't be what it is if she weren't so incautious with her transparency. Is it a once in a lifetime sort of understanding of another person? That's what you'd call a soulmate—he doesn't believe in that sort of thing. And their interactions are devoid of desire. There is no presence of romance.

But has he thought about sleeping with Riza? More than twice, that's for sure.

Riza doesn't polish her nails but she keeps them neatly trimmed. They're never dirty. Roy has observed on multiple occasions. He notices it again, today, when she tears at her waffle with her fingers.

"Can I tell you something personal?" Riza looks up at him from her food.

"Go for it." Roy shrugs, concealing the excitement of his curiosity. It is possible to have so much of one person and still not have it be enough. Seventy percent isn't enough. He wants, at the very least, an idea of the remaining thirty.

"It bothers me that everyone thinks I'm a hard-ass." Riza folds her hair behind her ear.

"You? Bothered? By the things people say?" Roy snorts.

"I'm serious. I can be spontaneous. I have crazy stories. I have sex too..." Her voice fades into the cup. She catches herself.

"You have sex too—huh? Interesting. Could've fooled me." Roy knows that it isn't so much about people believing that she doesn't, but she has worked so hard at sanitizing herself that it is simply impossible for anyone to imagine. Even the three or four times he's tried to envision it himself, it was no easy job for his imagination.

"Roy." Her tone switches.

"Riza. You have sex. Would you like for me to inform the entire the building?"

"Roy..." She blushes. Roy didn't think she were capable of it. Riza Hawkeye, who smacks her lips when she eats and burps without excusing herself, is bashful. 

"Just so I get my facts straight, do you like polite sex or dirty sex?" Roy teases.

"The reserved none- of-your-business kind of sex." Riza winks.

"Ah. I see. I understand, Lieutenant." He winks back at her.

"The kind of sex that gets me a call back." Riza finishes her breakfast. She closes the lids and stands to dump it in the trash bin.

"Don't all women like that kind of sex?" Roy doesn't want her to leave.

Riza puts on her jacket but throws her coat over her shoulder. Then she glares at Roy. He has always, factually, been a good looking man, but this time she sees sex with him, vividly in her mind. It interrupts the fabric of her cool. 

"Sure." She leaves before the thought of straddling him fully forms itself.

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	3. The Elephant

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With her bag slung over an arm, Riza's boots thump down the hallway. Her eyes are wet with exhaustion. She wakes up at the same time every morning but getting off varies. Sometimes it's right at sunset, more ofter long after. She tugs on the belt of her black coat. Her bangs sway over her eyes.

Roy turns the corner in the opposite direction and they are facing each other. He's got that 'just the person I wanted to see' look. They've reached this new level of intimacy where they don't have to speak. Every thought is communicated through body language and context. It could be romantic. Riza has the clarity to know that she is the one holding back. Roy is professional, isn't the type to expect anything out of their partnership. 

"Are you on your way home?" He is beside her now. Their footsteps a hard synchronized beat, echoing down the hall.

"Where else is there to be, Mustang?" Riza keeps herself from smiling. 

"I don't know. You could be going on a date." He jokes. Riza finds it funny. He knows she isn't a serial dater. There really is no time to. How he makes room in his schedule to have one night stands mystifies her—she would know. She keeps up with his agenda.

"Hm,” she snorts. They walk down the tunnel of stairs together. 

"You'll let me buy you dinner?" He combs a hand through his scalp.

"So you're trying to be my date?" Riza unclips her hair from its tight hold, shaking it into waves.

"No. I just really appreciate you re-organizing my office. You color coded my binders." Roy opens the door for her. The night air swoops down upon them. Riza's hair flies around her face.

"It's the least I can do. You don't have to buy me dinner." Riza pushes her hair from her face.

"I do, Riza." The want vibrates in his voice.

"I have Hayate on a routine." Riza has no more excuses.

"I'm sure he can wait another hour. We've left later than this." Roy is a very determined person. The wrong kind of man to desire. Riza has been working overtime to avoid feeling this way.

The cold turns her breath into a cloud. She looks down the long stairs leading out onto the street. 

"Ok." She forces a muted smile. 

"Good. It's not a date. We're professional." He is too good at reading her mind.

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Riza realizes just how uncomfortable she is with her femininity. She has no experience with desirability. Yes, she has had a one night stand or two, but it had always felt transactional. Unaffectionate and sanitized. All on her own accord. Most men don't exactly find a woman with a better physique than them attractive. 

"You should wear your hair down more." Roy comments as she takes off her coat and jacket. The restaurant is crowded. She reads his lips more so than actually hears him.

"Makes me look more feminine?" Riza tugs at the collar of her turtleneck.

"You always look feminine. You should do it to be spontaneous." He hasn't stopped smiling since they arrived.

"To appease you?" She rests her hands on the table.

"Yeah. Something like that." Roy picks up the menu. She admires the veins in his hands.

"Roy Mustang, are you flirting with me?" And then Riza crosses her legs. 

He looks up from the menu. They share a moment lacking in definition. Cerebral and maybe a little bit perverse. It is unclear.

"No. I'm not flirting with you. You'd know if I were flirting." Roy's smile deepens so, it touches the corners of his eyes.

"Just making sure." Riza picks up her menu as well.

They don't say much after the waitress takes their order. Not that there is a shortage of words. They've never gone out alone and sat this close to each other without working. Riza is self conscious about the way she drinks her beer. Do her lips pucker in a comically unattractive way? She feels her hair crawling on the back of her neck and swats her hand through it to relieve the mild stress.

"What are you thinking about?" Roy rarely clears his throat. Every time he speaks, he is sure about what he is going to say.

"Work." Riza had an answer ready for this question.

"No you're not. When you're thinking about work you sigh a lot. You sigh like you're in a lot of pain." He shakes his head.

"No I don't." Riza almost chokes on her beer.

"You do. You really do." He demonstrates all the stages of her breathing. Sometimes it's a succession of grief. A huff when someone says something irksome. Most of the time it is between her teeth, out of frustration. Roy gives himself a pat on the back.

"It's all of my controlled rage." Riza laughs. 

"You should really do something about it." Roy hands her a napkin to wipe the dribbles of spit on her face. Riza accepts it and continues to laugh into the napkin. 

"I will try. What do you suggest?" She wipes the beer residue from her lips.

"I don't know. I honestly don't. Take a jog? Get your toes sucked? Beats me." Roy doesn't look at her when he says this. He picks at the lint on the table cloth. They dwindle into silence, Riza thinks about him sucking her toes until the food arrives.

Roy stabs into his pasta. She watches the fork slide between his lips. Her entire body gets warmer. 

"Thanks, Colonel." Riza nervously swirls her fork in her shrimp and pasta. 

"My pleasure." He pays attention to his dinner but she swears it's a gesture of invitation. 

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For the rest of their dinner, Riza finds it impossible to not think about Roy sucking each of her toes. In her mind she imagines her toenails a deep red, pressing against his tongue, his lips falling around her big toe. Roy pays the bill and time just so happens to transport them outside of the establishment. 

"You're good, Lieutenant?" Roy adjusts his coat. Riza loses herself in his attentive stare. She knows Roy, he'd implanted the image in her head on purpose. He is just criminal enough to act like he hadn't mentally fucked with her.

"From here on out, I will no longer be accepting charity from you." Riza rubs her cold nose.

"Charity? That's what it was?" He smirks handsomely.

"It was something. I don't want it anymore. Ok?" She is serious. 

"Alright. I can understand." His smile fades.

"Goodnight, Colonel Mustang." Riza is turning on the heels of her boots, giving herself the distance. Roy can stand for a little rejection. 

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	4. Venus Fly Trap

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Her off days are like clock work. So it’s easy to forget about Roy sucking her toes and the dinner date she had been suckered into. She loses the fantasy in the sameness of doing her laundry. She hangs her lingerie to dry on a rack in front of the big, single window in her living room. Feeds Hayate so he can stop running over her feet and between her ankles. After making herself two slices of toast, she puts on a pair of leggings and a red sweater with brown buttons, then sets out to take her uniform to the dry-cleaners.

There is no space for Roy. She has structured her life this was on purpose, because she knows that she is fragile. The most vulnerable kind of person. Damaged goods. Riza is hard on the outside because her insides are soft like the inside of a sweet fruit.

When she gets back to her apartment, she attempts to read, stuck in the same chapter for over two months now. She reads a sentence, Hayate barks at someone on the street, gets distracted by people watching with her only companion.

Roy knocks on her door. How she knows it is him, it sounds like how he bangs on the office doors at work. Hayate disapproves of their Saturday being interrupted. He redirects his barking to her door.

Riza gets up. It must be important. Roy only shows up unannounced when there is a problem that he can't solve alone.

This doesn't seem to be the case when she opens the door and he's not dressed in his proper livery. Roy smiles brightly in his black sweater and black pants.

"You have no business being here," Riza says matter-of-factly.

"Indeed. I have no business but we need to talk." Roy reaches down to pet Hayate, who betrays her with an affectionate tail wag. _Not my damn dog, too_ —she screams in her head.

"About what, Colonel?" Riza won't budge from the doorway.

"Let me in first." Roy keeps smiling. Hayate sniffs around his feet.

 _This is fine_. She tells herself. _Everything is under control_. What is she scared of?

Riza moves to the side.

"Thank you." Roy looks around like he hasn't seen the inside of her apartment before. He stares at her damp panties drying in the sunlight. Makes no commit about it but she reads his mind. _Riza is very feminine after all_. She can hear him telling her naysayers.

She blushes, starting at her ears, the hotness trickling to her navel.

"What is it?" Riza frowns at how pleasant Hayate is about another man standing in her personal space.

Roy sits in her personal spot on her couch, where the cushions have depressed into the shape of her butt.

"Sitting will make you feel better." He tilts his head. A nonplussed Riza turns the lock, obeying whatever he tells her do to. Even outside of the stringency of the workplace.

"I will stand. In case I need to throw you out my window." She keeps her arms at her side.

"Suit yourself." Roy scrunches his face, knowing she'd make good on that kind of threat. Hayate's snorting takes place of a real conversation. Roy stares at her underwear, inexpressively.

"Why haven't we _happened_ yet?" Roy asks. The thought had occurred to him last night. He carried it over into the new day like he'd learned a mystery that can't be solved with science.

Riza stammers, sighs, then puffs up her cheeks. The hotness leaves the cave of her belly button and shoots down her calves. Riza braces herself against the counter, trying not to fall over.

"I didn't know how to ease into the conversation so it was just better to get it out." Roy's sincerity makes the inside of her nose burn.

"What do you mean _us happening_?" Riza gives him an out to this awkward conversation.

"Why haven't we, at the very least, slept together?" He is now staring at her from the couch. The space between them isn't much of a gap. Roy's presence is taller than the large window.

"Because that would be unprofessional." Riza regains the sternness in her voice.

"So, because it is unprofessional? Not at all because you don't want to?" Now he is maliciously teasing her.

Riza stands straight, picking the hair tie off her wrist and twisting her hair into tangled bun, so that he can see all of her face and it's graveness. Hayate yips happily. They stare at each other for some time. Riza doesn't know how to answer that question.

"You haven't thought about it once?" Roy props an elbow on the arm of the couch, resting his chin on his knuckles. She has thought about it. What woman hasn't? Is she about to admit to his face? Absolutely not. Then he'd categorize her with every other woman he's stiffed. Not appeasing his male ego is how she has maintained equal footing with him.

"Never." Riza grits her teeth.

"I think you're lying." Roy clicks his tongue.

"Believe it or not, Roy Mustang, not every woman wants to ride you. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can get on in life without using it as a measuring stick." Riza knows every trick to his game of semantics.

"You're not every woman, Riza. At least I don't lump you in with them." He isn't smiling anymore. Whenever he uses her name, he's about to volley some weight at her.

"Be honest with yourself. We are only having this conversation because I don't want you. It's why we work as it is. Why are you even trying to ruin it? You're smarter than this conversation." She doesn't _want_ Roy. He is desirable but not at the expense of their careers.

Roy can't manage a counter argument. You can't argue with common sense. This wasn't the sensible thing to do. It didn't hurt to try. He checks the time on his watch, pretending like he has somewhere to be.

"That's how you feel about it?" He stands up.

"Yes." Riza wishes she understood why it is suddenly so hard to be truthful.

Roy walks in her direction. Hayate nips at his ankles. He stops in front of her, allowing her to believe that she understands 'them' better than he does.

"I can't have girlfriends because of you. I think you should know." Roy has been forced to understand how entangled they are. Riza is the only woman who calls him after nine. Riza spends an unquantifiable amount of time with him. Riza answers the phone in his office when he is absent. It makes getting on sooner than later difficult. And yes, it does bother him that it has had no effect on her life at all.

"Not my problem, Colonel." Riza gestures for the door.

"See you in the office." Roy gives her his famous smile, hiding the bruise to his feelings.

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	5. My Body To Eat

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Roy and Riza don't talk about his visit. To have that much power over a man that you stunt the capacity of his intimacy is just downright evil. This is what he wanted. For her to feel like a criminal. _No_ , it isn't her problem but it most definitely is a mess that she has to sit in. Their non-verbal communication is awkward. She leaves his office when there is nothing more to be said. Roy doesn't ask about her day, or what she is having for lunch anymore. They cannot harmoniously exist in silence. They communicate with sticky notes now.

Her want for things to never be difficult between them had resulted in this cold, erotic, stagnancy of their friendship. _**Which isn't fair**_.

The anger she felt melted into her vagina, later manifesting into masturbatory dreams. Roy licking the inside of her belly button. Roy sucking the sweat off her top lip. Roy fingering or fucking her into softness she's been pretending not to have.

Managing to work out never having to cross paths, Riza stands in his office by herself, no longer feeling entirely welcome to linger in his personal space. She folds his old man reading glasses up and tucks them away in the top drawer of his desk. There's a sticky note on the lamp that says 'out of the office until three' in his immaculate hand writing. The period at the end feels violent. Riza crushes it up and tosses it into the trash bin. On his desk is an unfinished styrofoam cup of coffee. His teeth marks around the brim. Riza drops into his squeaky chair. It dips back, how he likes it. It occurs to her how massive his body is compared to hers. Two people could fit in this chair—has Roy had sex in this chair during his overnight work binges?

Riza picks up his cup and drinks the stale, cold coffee and gags. She jumps out of the chair, repulsed at the intrusive thought. Her sexuality has always been there, understated like black ice. Riza isn't rapacious. She has hard limits. But she never expected her horniness to be so blunt against her boundaries.

_I can't talk to you right now, I'm too horny_ —the locus of their lacking communication.

She looks at herself in the mirror on his wall (that he keeps to check his teeth for food and gel his hair). Her cheeks are angrily bruised by her subsequent lust.

Riza takes down her hair, dropping her clip and bobby pins on the file cabinet. With _Roy's_ comb, she rakes through the static of her hair. The knots pop. She gets her hair tangled in the sharp teeth. When she is satisfied, she neatly clips her hair back up. This act of composure erases _some_ of the tension. She picks her scentless chapstick from her pocket, dabbing it on her lips as the door opens.

Roy shuts the door and Riza fumbles her chapstick onto the dusty floor. She hadn't been coming by often enough to sweep for him.

"Your note said three." She clears her throat, snatching the chapstick off the floor. Balls of lint stick to the top, but she secures the cap on it anyway.

"I can't stop by my own office?" He smirks, dropping a stack of folders onto his desk.

"You absolutely can stop by your own office. I just..." Riza sucks in her jaws.

Aside from direct orders, this is the most they've interacted with each other unrelated to business.

Roy unbuttons his jacket, then folds it on the back of his chair. He opens one of the folders and props his chin in his hand.

"We need to talk." Riza crosses her arms.

"I'm all ears." He doesn't look up from his papers.

"I miss you." She doesn't beat around the bush.

Roy frowns, looking up from his papers to his door, really out into space. He doesn't realize he is staring at the doorknob.

"I haven't gone anywhere." He falls back into his chair, still not looking in her direction.

"No. You haven't, but that's the miserable part." She doesn't know how to make her anger real, outside of her body, for him to process.

Roy finally decides he can face her. He inhales his bottom lip. This expression softens his face, makes his cheeks look doughy.

"I'm being professional." He sighs.

"No. You're being an asshole. Sticky notes, Roy? You're being ridiculous." Riza flicks at her bang.

"Ok. Maybe it is a bit silly but how else am I suppose to cope?" The severity in which he says this summons a whirlpool of agitation in her stomach.

"Cope? Like I traumatized you?" Riza grits her teeth.

"That's not what I mean. Now **you're** being ridiculous." Roy also speaks through his teeth.

Riza takes the tube of chapstick she's been squeezing on and chucks it as his head. It thumps against his forehead, hard enough that it makes an audible thud.

The red mark between his bangs is the culmination of her sexual frustration. The catharsis she feels soothes her stomach. Riza doesn't wait for him to say anything else or do anything. She storms out of his office.

Roy massages the knot rising on his head. The impact vibrated in his mouth. _Maybe,_ he thinks to himself, _I shouldn't have said anything_. Riza was fine without knowing. It wasn't worth it.

Hughes would say this is why he can't find a decent woman to settle down with. His ego always squeezes itself in the way of progress. _Too many people kiss your ass, Roy._

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errors I will fix later. IDK how to conclude this. Lol this fic kinda happened on accident. Thanks for reading tho.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is different from a lot of things I've written. I don't really do fluff. I'm more of a doom and gloom, fatalistic kinda hoe, but personal growth and progress I guess. I want to write more, have Roy take Riza on a cute date or something. I'm not sure. Maybe if you guys like it enough. It's been a while since I've read/watched FMA. Like A LONG WHILE! So I implore you to suspend disbelief with the timeline. lmao. Thank you for reading. Hope you're all staying safe!!! Forgive my errors. I will fix them eventually.


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